As I closed my last post, I said that whatever I decided to do with my day—doing stuff-wise—it would be the right decision. That sounded good, and I tried to make it right, but choosing to ride had me wishing that I would have done just about anything else.
I’ll explain, because that’s what I do…
Tuesday night the mid-Michigan area got a round of ball busting storms: thunder, lightning, high winds, and rain. A lot of rain. The Cul-De-Sac-Shack’s lawn that was brown for most of the summer is now back in force and in need of twice a week mowings. Oh well, just a little added swomethin’-somethin’ to help me earn my keep. Sure beats wearing the gimp masks again. I don’t know how anyone can breathe in those things!
After two weeks of riding that had me in the saddle for nearly 9 hours one week and over 9 hours the next, I struggled to make it over the 5-hour mark last week. And this week I will probably struggle even to hit that. Uncharacteristically it will not be from my inherent slack but from real life getting in the way.
Before things get good, they usually have to be bad.
After working all day Thursday at the shop, I was anxious to get out and ride and shoot (pics) on Friday. Sadly that did not work out.
A quick ride in the hot sun late Sunday morning finished off my best week of riding since November. That is not to say it was like the old days of “training” and racing, but for a chubby, 47-year-old slacker who cares more about photo ops than accrued miles, 9+ hours of saddle time wasn’t too shabby.
I seemingly had a hundred things to do on Tuesday but managed to fit in a 27 mile loop square of dirt roads north of the Cul-De-Sac Shack. I was geeked to have got out, but not entirely geeked with how I felt. Well, for at least half the ride.
I knew going into Friday that a ride wouldn’t be in the works. So, between rainy morning errands and an afternoon spent finally cleaning our garage, having junk hauled away, and taking tires to the recycling center, I headed to the Sylvan Preserve to hike, er walk a few miles with my camera.
Thursday brought another “early for me” ride on dirt roads. As much as I would like to come up with something to make the ride sound like it was more than it was, I can’t.
After a beautiful ride in the July sun on Friday, I did everything I could to motivate myself for another ride on Saturday. It didn’t happen.
As I eluded to in the last post, mid-Michigan was about to/is getting bitch slapped in the face with the meaty dick of a heat wave. I was quite used to warm humid summers under “partly cloudy”1 skies back in Pittsburgh, but here in Michigan, with 8 months of cold temps, a 95˚ day feels like it’s 350˚ and the air is like breathing through the UltimAir 100% polyester crotch of a size 3XL pair of Breezies™ whilst being worn by a 6XL QVC home shopper. While some may find that incredibly erotic and spank-worthy, I do not. Well, at least not while riding my bike.
